


Hospital for Souls-Journal of a Madman

by Angelsinpobox



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 20:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelsinpobox/pseuds/Angelsinpobox





	1. Chapter 1

The flames burned hot on Dean's back. Even as a young kid he understood the gravity of the situation- Daddy was in trouble.  
John shoved Sam into young Dean's arms screaming, "Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, GO!"  
Dean grabbed Sam and ran downstairs, feeling the heat of the flames singe his hair. He bolted out the door, but his feet slipped on the dew-covered lawn. Sammy went tumbling out of Dean's arms, wailing and crying.  Worry for his baby brother spurred Dean to his feet.  He got to his feet, but froze.  
Out of nowhere a figure appeared, standing between Dean and his brother.  
Though the man's back was turned Dean could feel a smile creep into his voice, "On second thought, you're too precious to leave behind. Aren't you, Sammy?"  
The figure turned to face Dean, making the young boy's blood run cold. His eyes were a sickening pale yellow. The evil churning within their depths was enough to make any stomach flip and grown men run away, but not Dean. Dean wasn't leaving Sam.  
The youngster heaved himself up with scraped palms, "You leave my brother alone!" he shouted.  
The yellow eyed man chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Dean's spine.  
"Oh," he sized Dean up, "why didn't I choose you instead? You've got spunk, kid." The man leaned over, yellow eyes staring into crystal green ones, "but I will take your brother, and you can't stop me."

With a turn of his waist the man swiveled around, scooped up crying Sam and looked down upon the mortified brother.  
"Don't worry, kid," he said. " I'll take nice care of your brother, better than your daddy ever could." he smiled down at Sam's tear-streaked face, "Yeah, we'll have lots of funny. Won't we, Sammy?"  
Dean lurched forward and, pounding his tiny fists on the man's leg, shouted, "LET MY BROTHER GO!!! LET MY BROTHER GO!!!"  
"Oh, quite a temper on you. Don't worry lad, you'll see lil Sammy again, someday." he grinned at Dean, "See ya later, Dean."  
The man snapped his fingers and was gone. The only trace that he was ever there was a pair of boot prints fading quickly in the grass.  
Dean sobbed and beat his fists against the soggy earth, "BRING MY BROTHER BACK!!! BRING MY BROTHER BAAAAACCCKKK!!!"


	2. I'm No Hero

March, 2005

Madness is more of a side effect than the original disease. Madness that tears at the brain and tries to whisper the soul into the blissful dark.  
For 3 years now I've been running. For three years I've been going insane. Slowly but surely. It gets worse every day. I'm plagued with nightmares so I can't sleep. I hallucinate when I'm awake so consciousness is a living hell.  
In the beginning, I constantly wondered if it was all worth it. The nightmares, the hallucinations, the voices... so many voices.   
I almost went back a few times, but I always stopped myself. Living in my own hell was better than making other's lives miserable. What life they had left when I was done... 

The white washed rooms stared back at me. White sheets, white table, everything was so sterile and clean. Unlike me.  I felt as if I didn't belong in a place such as this.   
Yes, I belonged in an asylum, but my room's atmosphere of purity made my stomach ache with guilt.  I wasn't pure, and I certainly was no hero.  I was dark.  I was a black, endless void of horror.  I was the monster children fear lurking in the cold blackness.  I was the dark.  I was every lost and lingering shadow.  Nowhere to go and nowhere to belong.  No family, friends or even a random cousin that no one really knows but they always show up at family reunions.  No, I had none of those things.  

The only constant in my life was this- solitude.  The icy chill of being alone for too long almost overwhelmed me sometimes.  But that was okay, I'd convinced myself.  I was away from people, and they were away from me.  More importantly, I was away from him.  Three asylums in four months and I had no intention of letting him catch my trail.  I wasn't going back.  Not now, not ever. 

My door opened, snapping me out of my trance.  It was the nurse, Collie, coming by with the med cart.  Collie was cute with her curly brown hair and knowing green eyes. She was one of the few nurses that actually cared what happened to the patients.  
She smiled at me and I managed a weak imitation of a grin back.  I liked Collie, but I just wasn't in the mood for social interaction.  Then again, when was I ever in the mood?

Collie brought over the cup with half a dozen pills inside, "Here you go," she passed the cup to me with some water to wash it down.  After making sure the medicine was gone she did a routine check of vitals.  I found this excessive, but the institution insisted on making sure their patients were well taken care for. 

Collie slid her stethoscope down her neck after checking my heartbeat, "So, Sam," she said, "how have you been feeling?" 

I said nothing, knowing actions speak louder than words. And nothing is more deafening than silence.

She bit her lip in concern, "May I?" Collie asked, gesturing to the spot on the bed beside me. 

I nodded, "Sure." 

Collie slid down to sit, a sad, sorrowful look crisscrossing her face.  "Have you been keeping a journal like I asked?" 

I bopped my head, "As best I can with only crayons." 

"Sam, you know why we can't-." 

I waved her off, "I get it."  No pencils, knives, forks, nothing with sharp edges for me, not after the breakfast incident.  

"So," Collie pressed, "no improvement at all?  Not even a lighter mood to the dreams?" 

I sighed, "Still monsters...  It's always the same, Collie, and I can't stop it... I don't think it will ever stop."  

I studied the linoleum floor, surveying its blocked pattern as I waited for Collie's optimistic response.  She'd always tried to make things better, to make things seem not half as bad as they were.  Unfortunately, it'd never worked.

Just as Collie opened her mouth the speakers turned on, announcing it was nap time.  Saved by the asylum intercom.  She stood and piled her stethoscope atop the cart.  

She turned to me, "Sam, if you ever need anyone to talk to, about anything, I'm here and I hope you know that.  Okay?"  

She sounded worried, as if my yes or no would make or break her entire world.  I tried a half smile again, "Yeah, sure, Collie." 

Collie smiled, pivoted and pushed her cart out the door, brunette hair flipping behind her.  I was alone again with my thoughts.   
My eyes grew heavy.  I didn't want to sleep, but exhaustion doesn't care what I think. Involuntarily, I laid back and slid into another nightmare.  

I ran hard, fast.  I hadn't run that fast in a long time.  I was in a forest.  Tall oaks and spruces loomed above my head to form a canopy, blotting out the sun.  It was hard to see anything.  My breathing was heavy and I was sweating buckets.  Lord knows how long I'd been running.  I certainly didn't.  
The smell of blood stopped me dead in my tracks.  I licked my lips and a salty, sickeningly familiar taste oozed down my throat.  Not today.  Not ever again.  I'd been clean for too long to cave in now....  
"Sam!"  
A man's voice echoed across the dark landscape.  It sounded familiar somehow, but not a voice from my nightmares.  It wasn't the voice of my victims, my colleagues, or my... my mentor.  (In my dream I cringed).  
No, this voice wasn't threatening, not at all.  There was genuine concern.  My heart ached in my chest.  Whoever this mystery man was I seemed to know him.  No, not just know him, I missed him.  
A figure jumped through the foliage of a bush in front of me.  He was covered in sweat and blood, but I didn't focus on that.  I couldn't stop starring, even if I wanted to I couldn't.  He stared at me, eyes wide.  He seemed surprised to find me, maybe even a little relieved.   
My heart ached again.  I'd never seen this man in my life but I felt the compelling urge to bear hug him.   
His eyes grew misty, "Sammy." he almost whispered my name.  
I gasped a deep breath of air and uttered a name I'd never said but felt all too familiar on my lips, "Dean?"  
Dean, I assumed, smiled as wide as a cavern.  You'd think he just found the greatest treasure in the world.  He took a step towards me.   
Suddenly, the air whistled with the sound of an arrow being shot.  Dean gasped and clutched the projectile now lodged in his chest.  He staggered to the forest floor.  
"Dean!" I screamed, lunging forward to catch his fall.   
He coughed up blood and spit onto the leafy ground.   
Dean smiled a sad, painful smile, "Too slow on my feet, huh?"  
He hacked up more blood.  I held his head and tried to keep him awake, but his eyes fluttered shut.  
"Dean?  No!  Dean!"   
Sorrow choked my voice.  I hugged his body closer, the wound still dripping blood.  Suddenly, Dean went rigid.  He pulled away and looked at me.  My stomach did a summersault.  No longer were Dean's eyes green with life. No, now they're an all too familiar yellow.  
Dean smiled, but it wasn't Dean, "I'm coming, Sam.  Don't you worry, we'll be a family again soon."  
Everything went black as a demon's eyes.

I jumped in my bed, cold sweat soaked the mattress and clung to my shirt. I bent over to switch on the lamp on my side table, and winced with the effort. Urgently, I turned on the light. It's soft beam made the room glow a strange tint of yellow.  
I looked at my hands- they were bleeding. My fingernails were jagged and bloody. Bathroom, I needed a bathroom, or a nurse. Yes, all logic pointed to immediate medical care. Screw it.  
I gingerly ripped two pieces of cloth from my bed sheet. I wrapped them as best I could around the cuts, and I sucked on my fingernails in a desperate attempt at removing the blood crusted inside.  
I fell back on my pillow. The mattress' springs bounced pitifully under me. He was coming. I had to leave. I had to go... but where?  
Sighing, I closed my eyes. It was too late (or too late?) to think about running for my life, or from my life. My mind slid into a state of semi-consciousness- not awake, but not asleep either. It was good.


	3. White

I poked the sludgy cafeteria food. 'Chicken and Grits', they called it, but I wasn't convinced. It looked more like liquified mashed potatoes with bits of meat dashed it. I pushed the plate aside.   
Like everything else in St. Joseph's, the cafeteria was completely white, everything down to the lunch ladies' uniforms. Apparently, some patients were too unstable to handle bright colors. I wondered if I was considered one of those patients.  
I was alone at my table, which I was perfectly comfortable with. All my life I'd been an outsider, it was nothing new. Too be perfectly honest, I preferred a lonely lunch than being around the other patients.   
Across from my table was a lady named Jude. She'd lost her husband two years earlier and was still convinced he was with her. She talked to him sometimes and with what I know about the dead I often wondered if she wasn't completely bonkers.  
Beside Jude was a brute who bore my name - Samuel, but the likeness ended there. Samuel had a shaved head, a ripped body, and tattoos in places I didn't think it was possible to get tattoos. Despite his startling appearance, the guy was more of a gentle giant. He never talked, only took ginger steps around the ward and twiddled with a Rubix Cube. No one knew what he was at St. Joseph's for, and frankly no one wanted to know. How him and Jude had become sort of friends I'll never know.  
A figure twirled up in front of me. I looked up and saw the face of a patient named Holly. She was fairly pretty girl with short black hair and enough freckles to spare.   
She smiled at me and made a pirouette, "Good day, Sir Samuel."  
I tilted my head politely, "And to you as well."  
Holly had been in a brutal car accident last year. She'd been banged up pretty bad and now believed she was in Medieval London. And apparently, I was a prince. I played her game; it made her feel safe. I could relate to that.  
A buzzing sound pierced the air, signaling the end of lunch. I dumped my 'lunch' into the nearest trash bin and went back to my room.   
Walking back were large windows looking out to the world beyond- the world of the sane, the world of the free... More or less.  I stared at the perfectly polished glass and stroked its smooth surface, my hurt hands shouting in protest. That morning I'd caved and asked the nearest nurse for help. Luckily, she was one that didn't care. She applied the liquid and happily wiped me from her mind. I smiled. It's the small things.  
I looked back outside. Sure, small things help, but I wanted more than help. I wanted more than just a life of sadly limping along lonely hallways, constantly glancing over my shoulder. I wanted to live.   
For not the first time I contemplated smashing it. I pictured it in my mind's eye- glass littered the floor, alarms buzzed wildly overhead. I'd bend down to scoop up the largest shard I could find and then... and then.   
I took my hand off the glass. I didn't know what would come after the 'and then'. There was Heaven, sure, but not for me. Hell, well, a more or less welcome home party surely waited. Purgatory, but that was for monsters... I didn't know. If there was no life fe outside of the poison that set my destiny, then I just wanted to fade into oblivion. No eternal life or damnation, just, nothing. I was ok with nothing.   
I turned to continue walking towards my cell, for that's what it was- a cell. Then a voice caught my attention.  
"There is no rest for you, Sammy."  
Ice-cold tendrils weaved their way in between my vertebrae and tightened with a vice grip. I knew that voice. I hated that voice. I tried to avoid it as often as I could. I never spoke because of that voice.  
My reflection spoke again, "You're a monster, Sam. For what you've done to people, for what you've done to anything, you're going to burn."  
I whipped my head around to face the monster. He had sickening pale skin and eyes sunk in so far he looked like a dead man. His lips were chapped and bleeding. Along his face cuts oozed liquid as white as himself. My monster urged me to smash my reflection and take the express way, three stories down, to the lobby.  
He smiled again, with his jagged, shark-like teeth.   
Rage boiled inside me, "I've already burned," I told myself, "I've endured every form of punishment that I deserve."  
He waggled a thin, blood soaked finger at me, making a tisk-tisk sound.  
"Oh, Sammy, but you haven't. He will come. Soon. He will come and he will find you. He will take you back home."  
I gulped so hard my Adam's Apple hurt, "No. I'll never go back. Not on my life."  
He snickered, "What life? Your life was over the moment you were born..."  
"Shut up," I whispered.  
"... But the worst is fearing the unknown, right?" Evil me snickered and sang in a sick lullaby tone, "Poor little Sammy, sitting in a tree, waiting for Azazel to rescue me. Again I swing, again I play, 'til I'm thrown back in the dark, old ca-."  
"I SAID SHUT UP!!!!"  
I hit the glass, hard. Jagged lines spread across the monster's face. He continued to smile. He smiled until the entire window came crashing down.  
Alarms sounded throughout the building. Overwhelming screams of insanity and fear cascaded over me. I clamped my hands over my ears to lessen the noise.  
Boots pounded against the white linoleum floor. Before I knew it I was being hand cuffed and shoved onto my bed. Sweat dripped down my forehead. I felt straps being buckled to my wrists and feet. Muffled voices asked me to please stop struggling, but they were coming from a million miles away.  
No. No it couldn't happen. Yellow Eyes would never find me... Was it a vision or was I truly going crazy?...   
I was alone, but my demon's voice echoed in my ears, "You're going to burn, Sam. It has only just begun."


End file.
